


in the afterglow

by Anonymous



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Gryffindor Donghyuck, M/M, Mark Lee is whipped, Post-Hogwarts, oh that’s a tag, slytherin mark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It was like having been caught unsuspecting by a blow to the chest, trampled by a hoard of Hippogriffs, and blasted by a Stinging Jinx. Mark Lee couldn't move, couldn't breathe; only stare and wondered if anyone else in the world knew that Lee Donghyuck could be that beautiful.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 8
Kudos: 85
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	1. in his head

**Author's Note:**

> how do i word this out... this is a piece that i hold very dear to my heart. originally, it went with a completely different characters and it stopped at ten chapters. basically re-edited to match markhyuck. i’m not sure about the future of this one and will take this down immediately if something occurs 
> 
> and uhhhh everything is set in britain, sorry!

It all started when Mark had been casually walking home to his flat in Chelsea, enjoying the mild weather of early spring, and had stepped into The Neo Café, an old favourite, on impulse. It was a charming Muggle café with walls covered in Byzantine tiles of tame teal and turquoise, and artfully mismatched antique chairs and tables. Mark had ordered a cup of tea from the counter and was looking around to find a table where he could sit and read his book, when he'd spied his former schoolmate and felt his lungs seize up.

It was like having been caught unsuspecting by a blow to the chest, trampled by a hoard of Hippogriffs, and blasted by a Stinging Jinx. Mark Lee couldn't move, couldn't breathe; only stare. The boy sat at a table by the open window, wearing a low-necked white shirt that contrasts beautifully against his caramel skin and proudly showcases his sharp collarbones, with a book in the cradle of his hands. His cheeks were flushed a healthy pink and his pouty bottom lip bore just a trace of a peach-coloured gloss. The light breeze from the open window caught some of his brown strands and they seemed to float about him, glowing in the afternoon sunshine like a jar of honey held up to the light. 

Mark wondered if anyone else in the world knew that Lee Donghyuck could be that beautiful. 

A rush of the past surged through his brain. A flurry of red wine and gold, of emerald green and silver. Chatters in Hogwarts’ Great Hall, shuffling feet and flourishes of the school’s uniform robe at the school’s never-ending corridor.

How Donghyuck’s bark-brown eyes always narrowed into dangerous slits every time Mark was around. Delicate fingers clenched around his wand. Always guarded. Always ready to fight with one of his advanced-for-people-around-his-age spells whenever the derogatory term regarding the younger’s blood status was heavy on the tip of Mark’s tongue.

How Mark was a misguided and prejudiced kid, blinded by his admiration towards his grandfather’s beliefs. Gloating about blood superiority and mocking those who he supposed were at a lower tier than his.  _ Donghyuck had been one of those.  _ Just because Mark thought Muggleborns were filthy. 

How Lee Donghyuck had fought alongside the light, across from Mark’s own troops of darkness. Divided. Different.

Mark had not seen Donghyuck in person since their graduation from Hogwarts. As one of the bright heroes of the Great Wizarding War, Mark had heard Donghyuck’s name mentioned sometimes when he mingled among wizarding historic society, and Mark recalled seeing Donghyuck’s name or picture from time to time on the society pages of the Daily Prophet, especially when the Gryffindor began dating an Australian renowned curse-breaker several years ago .

 _ What was his name again?  _ If Mark recalled correctly, Donghyuck’s lover was a Hufflepuff.  _ Not important . _

Mark had spent a great deal of the last few years attending to business matters abroad, had gotten out of the habit of keeping track of society gossip, and therefore knew little regarding Donghyuck’s current state of affairs.

With a bit of effort, Mark forced his lungs to suck in a bit of air and wondered if he dared to approach Donghyuck. Surely Donghyuck had married that Hufflepuff prat by now. At that thought, his spirit turned sour. From what Mark recalled, the relationship had been quite serious and met with universal approval by those who knew them. Yet, as Mark watched Donghyuck absently run one of his hands over his chocolate fringe as he lost himself in his book, Mark felt compelled to speak to Donghyuck, to see if the former Gryffindor was as lovely up close as he was from where Mark stood now. 

_ Certainly, there was no harm in speaking to him?  _ Mark thought. At best, he'd be catching up with an old schoolmate and find himself bored to tears with stories of his perfect marriage with his perfect curse-breaker. At worst… well, he had always found a somewhat truculent pleasure in the verbal sparring of their youth. 

_...certainly, he wouldn't hex me in a café full of Muggles. _

On silent feet, Mark crossed the café to the table where Donghyuck sat, stopping just behind the younger boy and peering around his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the cover of his book. 

_ Neruda. _Mark repressed the grin that tugged at his lips.  ” _Love is so short, forgetting is so long_ ,” he quoted softly, "why, Lee Donghyuck, I'd have never taken you for a romantic."

Donghyuck turned slowly, his pretty mouth turned up in a smile to greet whichever of his acquaintance had spoken. Not for long, his smile faltered as his large dark eyes widened in recognition.

"Mark Lee,” Donghyuck breathed out his name and Mark honest to Merlin wished he was somewhere else instead, preferably with Donghyuck’s face in the cup of his hands as Mark’s head leaned closer to the boy’s mouth to feel his breath ghosting on his face.

Blinking to erase his wishful thinking, Mark replied with a single bob of his head, willing his breathing to remain steady. To his delight, Mark found Donghyuck was even more alluring up close.

"A friend of mine," Mark mused, trying to keep his tone light, "quite a fan of those poems himself, once said that the key to a man's character lay in which of range of Neruda's work he was drawn to. Now, I would have pegged you as having more of a political or historical inclination.  _Canto General _ or maybe  _Song of Protest_. And instead, I find you reading a book that was considered controversial at its publication for its blatant eroticism. My, my, Lee, you're not the same boy I remember."

Donghyuck blushed prettily, mouth turning upwards into a gentle smile (Mark was close to strangle himself with the napkin that was perched on top of the nearest table. Or Sectusempra to his throat. He wondered briefly if death because of infatuation would be deemed appropriate enough in his family’s history, because hey, perhaps he could be the first to such legacy), and managed to shake off Mark’s flustering comments to retort, "apparently, I could say the same for you, given your surprisingly intimate knowledge of a Muggle poet."

Mark smirked at that, "this is one of my favourite cafés. I've never seen you here before. Do you come often?"

"Whenever I can," Donghyuck replied. “My work had me travelling a great deal in the last year, but I've come here as often as I can. I like this café, too."

"Do you live here in Chelsea?" Mark prodded, keeping his tone alight in case he scared the boy away.

"Yes,” Donghyuck confirmed, eyes lightning up with the warmth of morning sun. Like he was talking to an old friend. Mark was nothing but a weak sunflower. “I have a flat near the park."

"The park? Really? That's a rather posh area. Does your husband like it?"

"My husband?"

"Yes, I thought you were married to that charming Hufflepuff lad?"

"Woojin?" Donghyuck said carefully, Mark noted with interest how the boy fidgets with the cover of his book. “No, he finally signed the contract with that Quidditch team from France. It could never work.”

"No, no. The other one who deals with curses. Weren't you dating him for quite some time? I assumed you'd be married by now."

Mark saw his mistake almost immediately. Donghyuck had been attempting to misdirect him, but he'd not seen it in time and as soon as Mark spew that tad bit of data, Donghyuck’s face turned pale, lips formed into a sad pout. His voice was considerably quieter when he answered, “no... Felix is married, but not to me. He married someone else several months ago."

“What about Snaggletooth and Bag-Nose?" Mark asked quickly, attempting to divert the conversation from his glitch. “Has anyone been saddled with those two yet?"

"They went into a happy polyamorous relationship with Na Jaemin. Married. They adopted a baby just before Christmas,” Donghyuck answered, colours returning to his complexion and a small smile crept up on his face. "All we need is a 'Mudblood' from you, a 'Tinsel Teeth' from me, and the regression to our school-ages selves would be complete."

“Ah, but I don't use that word anymore,” Mark replied in a sombre tone, long gone was his resentment toward Muggleborns. “I guess we'll have to settle for being adults then, shan't we?" He made a point of looking around the café, then back at Donghyuck’s table.

"May I join you?" Mark queried hopefully, glancing at the empty chair across from Donghyuck.

The boy’s eyebrows raised, lips parting in momentary surprise at Mark’s request. “Uh, of course. Yeah. Do sit down."

Mark slipped into the chair across from Donghyuck, setting his book and cup on the table, and feeling very pleased with himself.

The next few moments passed in silence as Mark calmly studied  his boy Donghyuck’s face and the younger’s eyes flitted around nervously. That is until his eyes fell on Mark ’s book and another expression of surprise glanced across his features.

"Dinesen? You're reading Dinesen?" Donghyuck asked him in surprise.

"Out of Africa is considered to be one of the greatest books ever written,” Mark replied, analysing the boy across from the table in detail.

"Yes… by a Muggle."

"From your tone, I would venture to guess that you are surprised to find me reading it?" Mark said slowly, glancing over at Donghyuck.

"Well, yes," Donghyuck said honestly.

"I'm stung by your opinion of me, Lee," Mark said, the humour in his eyes betraying his scornful tone. "Common sense should dictate that, what with my impeccable upbringing and considerable academic achievement, finishing second only to yourself, if I recall correctly, that it would be quite a within reason that I should find enjoyment in a lyrical masterpiece such as this. Muggle author or no."

"Yes, how foolish of me. I suppose all the racial slurs you slung at me during school are clouding my sense of reason,” Donghyuck returned, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Obviously. The absence of reason might also explain why the ever-logical Lee Donghyuck is reading a book of poems about love. Or perhaps, you've just grown up. Perhaps you've realized that your old ideals are not as cut and dry as they were when you were younger."

Donghyuck said nothing, merely stared at Mark with veiled interest. 

Swayed by his sudden attraction to Donghyuck or maybe just the weight of years of introspection, Mark suddenly felt daring. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to be honest with Donghyuck as he crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward on them.

"What would you say if I said I'd grown up, too? That I had realised my beliefs were simple and flawed?" Mark paused, looking down at his hands. "Would you believe me if I told you I was sorry for all the things I said as a child? That I don't believe them anymore?"

Mark glanced up at Donghyuck, and the younger held his gaze, searching his eyes as though to gauge his honesty.

"I would say, I'd like very much to believe it was true," Donghyuck said cautiously, looking at Mark with something akin to guarded clarity.

Mark directed his attention out the window, pausing a few moments before he quietly continued, "I was... I should’ve had known better, but what child doesn't have unconditional faith in everything his elders teach him? It took years for me to realise how misguided I'd been on so many things. Regarding you and all the things I believed in regards to blood, I was wrong."

Donghyuck seemed to mull Mark’s words over for a few minutes before responding, "I suppose it follows, given your change of allegiance seventh year. If you'd never questioned those beliefs, you would have died defending them like all the others. Or at least, declared neutrality instead of helping us."

Donghyuck looked at Mark intently for a few moments, then, averted his eyes out the window to the street, smiling shyly, and Mark knew he was forgiven.

"I presume this means you'll be wanting to be friends next?” Donghyuck said, his tone tilting upwards at the end, posed as a question as he stared back at Mark.

"Would that be so bad?" Mark replied, noting the boy’s good humour by the slight twitch at the corner of his pouty mouth and suddenly feeling more hopeful than he had in ages.

"Well… I don't know. I know ever so many people, and until one of them dies, I couldn't possibly be friends with anyone else,” Donghyuck said solemnly.

Mark’s jaw dropped and he stared at Donghyuck in shock, then, at a thought, narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him, before smirking triumphantly. “It seems to me, Mister Lee, that, as we read the same books and apparently, watch the same movies, it would greatly enhance your overall social enjoyment to favour me with friendship and ouster one of the, no doubt, vast number of idiots lucky enough to be counted among your acquaintance. Christopher Bang comes to mind as a viable candidate, though I must say I've always found Park Jaehyung to be a rather pompous git."

“Hey! What is it with you and my former lovers?”

“Lovers? What– I know about the Australian one, but Park Jaehyung, really? They’re like, distant third cousins once removed, aren’t they?” Mark feigned a scandalised gasp.

"And?” Donghyuck asked, “also, are you implying that arrogance is a questionable quality? Because if you are, I daresay you might be endangering your own nomination."

"I would never imply anything of the kind. I see nothing at all wrong with arrogance so long as one has the substance to back it up. What with my estate, career, connections, charm, wit and devastatingly good looks, my attitude could hardly be thought unfounded. Park Jaehyung, on the other hand, is more like a dumpy ostrich with eyeballs bigger than its brain, yet boasting of its own cleverness. Look, look how I stick my head in the dirt! Aren't I just brilliant? Bow down before me lest I peck you to death!"

Donghyuck’s hands flew to his mouth in an attempt to stay his laughter, but it escaped him anyway, making Mark feel pleased and anxious to hear it again. 

After a few seconds of Donghyuck’s endearing chuckles, Mark shot another question. “So, have you actually read Dinesen or are you just indignant on behalf of all Muggle authors on principle?"

"I've read it. Twice, actually. You were right about her prose style being particularly lyrical. My mother loved her too. She even named an old oak tree in our yard Ehrengard.” Donghyuck’s eyes glazed over a bit, a look Mark recalled the younger loved to exhibit whenever Donghyuck spoke of books at Hogwarts. "I love the part where she talks about wishing for forgiveness from the giraffes bound for the menagerie in Hamburg. It made me cry. What have you liked best so far?"

"Hmm, though it's hardly fair to say so without having read the entire book, so far I think the part about the iguanas. Something about that story, in particular, just…struck me."

"I can see that,” Donghyuck mused thoughtfully, “‘ _ I have conquered them all, but I am standing amongst graves. _ _’_ ”

Mark met Donghyuck’s eyes from across the table, and for the first time in years felt the world may not be as bereft as he feared.

☷

An hour later, they were still laughing and finishing a second cup of tea.

"I've really enjoyed myself. I had no idea you could be so much fun, Mark Lee." Donghyuck smiled as he slipped his book into his bag and stood, pulling his sweater from the back of his chair.

"Do you need to be somewhere?" Mark queried, standing as well, reluctant to part company from Donghyuck.

"I don't have any appointments or anything. I'd just planned on stopping by a record store before I went home."

"The one a few blocks up off King's Road? I know that store. They've an excellent selection. Diverse."

"Do you own a record player?" Donghyuck interrogated, One of his eyebrows raised, and for a half a second, Mark was distracted.

"Yes. Are you shocked?"

"Quite. Whatever would your friends say? I'm sure it would be quite the scandal,” the younger said, a small jab to Mark’s already small wounded gulity heart.

"Yes, but the most scandalous things are often the most enjoyable, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm sure you know better than I. Would you like to come with me? That is if you've nothing better to do?" Donghyuck regarded Mark with an easy hopeful smile, and the older had never been more proud of his achievement.

"I'd be delighted," Mark said, gathering up his book, his hand gently grazing the small of Donghyuck’s back as Mark guided him out of the café.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canto General and Songs of Protest are books of poems written by Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. the book donghyuck is reading is intended to be Twenty Poems of Love and a Song of Despair, by the same author. mark quotes a line from Poem 20, commonly known as "Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines."
> 
> Out of Africa is a memoir written by Danish author Karen Blixen under the penname Isak Dinesen. donghyuck references the chapter called "The Giraffes Go to Hamburg" and quotes a line from the chapter entitled "The Iguana." Ehrengard is a novella by the same author.
> 
> donghyuck’s quote regarding having too many friends is from the 1963 Audrey Hepburn/Cary Grant film Charade.


	2. in the way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "’Though he be but little, he is fierce. Well roared, Lion.'”

Mark Lee strolled into the corporate offices of Lee Enterprises the next day, feeling almost chipper enough to smile at the security guards and various employees as he passed. But Mark had to maintain his imgae, thus why he scowled at them instead, biting the insides of his cheeks and furrowing his brow, until he stepped into his private lift and allowed himself to scrunch his nose at his reflection in the shiny brass doors.

He had spent another two hours with Donghyuck the night before, thumbing through crates full of dusty old LPs and trying to find inconspicuous ways to touch the younger. A brush of the hand against Donghyuck’s arm. A nudge of the shoulder if Donghyuck said something funny. Donghyuck’s skin felt so soft when it touched his knuckle that Mark had been so tempted to licked it there and then, the public be damned. Leaning over Donghyuck to see what album the boy was examining allowed Mark the double pleasure of brushing slightly against Donghyuck’s backside and smelling his hair. Wood sage. Maybe a hint of coconut. The boy almost smelled like ocean. _Pure heaven._

Mark stepped off the lift and sauntered into the reception area of his company's executive offices, nodding at his secretary.

"Good morning, Mr. Lee," his secretary greeted, stepping out from behind her desk to hand him his mail and various paperwork requiring signatures. “Mr. Seo is already waiting inside, sir.”

"Excellent,” Mark commented and strode into his office. He'd appointed Johnny Seo as President of Lee Enterprises the moment he's assumed the corporate reins following graduation, wanting someone he trusted implicitly as his right-hand-man instead of the senile, old dodgers his grandfather had favoured. Johnny had quickly proven himself a highly capable and calculating businessman, and Mark lavishly rewarded his dedication and ingenuity.

Johnny was already sitting in one of the leather armchairs opposite his desk, his morning reports resting on his leg in a neat stack. Mark walked up and clapped him on the shoulder in greeting. “Morning, Johnny. How was the Arrows game last night?”

"Smashing,” Johnny replied in his usual smooth, even voice. It’s been a habit of the two Slytherins to begin a conversation in the morning with a snippet of the latest Quidditch game. “Arrows trampled all over the Harpies. No doubt we can expect the same with the Cannon's next week."

"Capital. Perhaps I'll put in appearance myself. I've not used the box in ages,” Mark mused, dropping his papers onto the desk and lounging back in his chair to face his friend. Johnny seemed to note his good mood, regarding him carefully before speaking. "Have we had a breakthrough with those bastards at Naka that I'm not aware of or did you just have a monumental lay last night?"

Mark actually laughed, "Neither actually. Just a rather pleasant evening. Though I wouldn't mind hearing that we've made progress with that deal."

"Nothing substantial yet, but we have several meetings lined up and a dinner appointment scheduled for you and one Nakamoto Yuta in two weeks. Regarding our investments in…"

As Johnny reviewed their morning notes, Mark found his mind drifting off, thinking again of his run-in with the prettiest boy in white. Whose skin the softest and shinesthe brightest under the sun, who smells like the ocean. Donghyuck had seemed willing enough to be friendly with him, proven by the way he had flashed Mark his smiles, tossed his head back as bubbles of laughter erupted and shook his body at Mark’s attempts at comedy. How would he react if Mark pursued him more intimately? Mark is greedy, yes. Although his first slip up had warned him enough about Donghyuck’s sensitivity regarding the boy’s romantic history. He'd not dared to ask if Donghyuck was currently seeing anyone. Of course, there were other ways to come about such information.

"…and the profits from our Imported Textiles division are up seven for the quarter…"

"Hey, Johnny?" Mark interrupted suddenly, weighing the words on his tongue as if it was one of the Unforgivables. “What.. what do you know about Lee Donghyuck?"

His interruption on Johnny’s business chat was something that shouldn’t be looked by, and Johnny’s eyes glimmered with something before he clucked his tongue. “Well, let's see… nicknamed Prince Haechan for his brightness, very clever for he finished top in your year back at school, best friend of that threesome folks, First Class Order of Merlin, defeated The Dark Lord, currently employed as an International Liaison for Gringotts, sits on the Board of Trustees of Legal Aide for Magical Brethren, various connections to the ministry via the Na’s, various connections to the Prophet and Witch Weekly through former dorm mates. I think he’s married to that Australian curse-breaker, I believe his name is Felix."

"I'd thought so, too, but no. That badger married someone else.”

"Oh? I hadn't heard. Why? Is the Prince stirring up trouble with our workers in the goblin division?” Johnny had sit up straighter, and Mark knew Johnny long enough to decipher the current expression the older was wearing as something calculating. “We've been very careful, everything is to code."

"No, no, nothing like that. I was merely curious what you knew about him,” as soon as those words left his mouth, Mark knew he was doomed. He wasn’t careful with his stealthy. Years of being a Slytherin went down the drain at the blink of an eye as his voice getting higher nearing the end of his speech. Almost imperceptibly, Johnny quirked an eyebrow and Mark groaned internally. They'd been friends since they were in nappies, and consequently, Johnny was one of the few people who could read Mark when he was attempting to feign indifference. An ability that proved invaluable during business negotiations and maddening when attempting a game of chess or cards.

"You're trying to get into his pants, then?" Johnny queried, the corner of his mouth twitching with a suppressed smirk.

"What? Don't be ridiculous. I was simply curious what you—“ spluttering, ears burning, Mark was ready to blast his head off. “Alright! Alright! I ran into him yesterday after work and. And. And... Fuck, Johnny, he’s bloody gorgeous. I even managed to get him to forgo his wand and actually talk to me. To me! Mark Lee! I had no idea a man could be like that. He was brilliant and witty and fascinating and smells exceptionally good and he has the sexiest little laugh, and, Salazar strike me dead, it was all I could do not to drag him into an alley and snog him senseless,” Mark rambled, running his hands through his hair wearily.

"Yes, as if snogging is what happens when two men are alone in alleyways."

"I was trying to be tasteful,” Mark sniffed, shifting his eyes away from Johnny’s inquisitive ones. “You know, he had on the most delectable little shirt. It was white. Like, it was painfully exquisite upon his skin. I think he doesn’t like buttons very much. You see, his shirt was missing three buttons. Collarbones everywhere. It was hard to divert my eyes from his neck! You should’ve seen him in it— wait, no, don’t see him! But yeah, I couldn't help but wonder if it would be hotter to peel it off of him slowly or simply tear it apart if I were to shag him in the alley."

Mark waited with bated breath after his story for what his friend was about to spout off. 

“Are you going to see him again?"

"He said I could owl him if I ever wanted to meet up again,” Mark quipped with a pleasant smile, the taste of beautiful future heavy on his tongue.

"As if you would pay any heed to whether or not he granted you an invitation." Johnny snorted.

"Indeed. I think I'll owl him after lunch. Should I bother asking if you disapprove?"

"Well, he is a Muggle-born,” Johnny wrinkled his nose, as though the stench of Donghyuck’s blood could be discerned from where he sat. "However, with the state of politics today and his undeniably powerful connections, it would be justifiably easy to overlook that one factor. If he intrigues you, I can see little fault in pursuing whatever interests you have in the guy."

Mark chuckled. Leave it to Johnny to strip away all notions of romance and sex, and reduce everything to business and politics.

"You know what, you're right. There isn't any good reason not to pursue him." As Mark spoke, he reached over and tapped his wand to a small black button on the corner of his desk. A moment later his secretary popped her head through the door.

"Yes, Mr. Lee?"

"Clear a spot in my schedule this afternoon. Place a call to Gringotts and make an appointment with one of their advisors regarding setting up a new account."

"What kind of account, sir?"

"I have no preference; savings, investment, whatever you like, so long as I must go in person to discuss it. Oh, and make sure whomever I meet with is on the same floor as the International Liaison Division."

⊹

Mark spotted Donghyuck the moment he stepped out of the elevator, and took a deep calming breath, willing away the small knot of nerves that tightened in his stomach, as his feet carried him towards the younger. Donghyuck was standing a ways down the corridor with his back to Mark, next to the tiniest goblin Mark had ever seen, and facing a large oafish man at least twice Donghyuck’s size. He wore his neat, pressed Gringotts robes open, over what Mark hoped was another low-necked shirt. Mark drew nearer, then paused, noting Donghyuck’s rigid posture and the defiant upward turn of his chin as the younger glared icily up at the large man opposite him.

"If I ever hear you saying such things to any of them again," Donghyuck warned, his voice so calm and cold, even Mark’s grandfather would have been astonished, "So help me, I will have you sacked faster than you can string together two words in your defense."

Mark was more than impressed. A crackle of power seemed to radiate off Donghyuck’s slight frame and the large man's eyes grew wide as he gulped nervously. This, Mark thought, is Lee Donghyuck, the wizard who helped bring down the darkest wizard known to history. 

The man glanced quickly down at the tiny goblin, then nodded shakily at Donghyuck before spinning on his heel and hurrying off down the corridor. When he'd disappeared into a doorway, the little goblin said something that Mark couldn't make out, and Donghyuck giggled, the curls at the back of his head trembling with his laughter.Donghyuck watched the little goblin walk away and Mark steeled himself to make his move.

On silent feet, Mark closed the distance between them, stopping just behind Donghyuck and leaning down so his lips were inches from the shell of the younger's ear.

_ "’ Though he be but little, he is fierce. Well roared, Lion .'”  _

Donghyuck jumped slightly at the first sound of his voice, but did not whirl around to scold him. Instead, Donghyuck tilted his head just slightly toward Mark, exposing the slender curve of his neck as though inviting Mark to taste it. "And what of you, serpent?" Donghyuck murmured, a playful smile tugging at his lips, "Do you always greet with prose? Fancy yourself a modern day Savinien? Or are you just Christian de Neuvillette, gaining favor with another man's words?"

"So long as favor is gained, the means are of little consequence. Do you really think me a serpent, little Lion?" Mark teased, aching to press his mouth to the soft skin just below Donghyuck’s ear.

"I was attempting to be polite and improvised. I could have stuck with the canon of your choosing and called you an ass." Mark chuckled and Donghyuck turned to face him, his little smile blossoming into a grin.

"What are you doing here, Mark Lee? Yesterday not enough for you? Feeling so wretched for friends, the misanthropic façade is crumbling?" Donghyuck asked cheekily.

”Yes, My Prince, the pain was so acute I couldn't bear to spend another moment apart from the glory of your presence." Mark declared, flashing Donghyuck an exaggerated grimace at the way the younger flushed at his given title. "Actually," Mark continued, "I had an appointment with someone in your trade department regarding a few of my overseas accounts."

"Oh? Why didn't you mention it yesterday?" Donghyuck asked curiously.

_ Damn _ , Mark thought, holding in a snort, "I rarely trouble myself to remember minor meetings such as these. My secretary keeps track of my schedule."

Donghyuck seemed to accept that answer, nodding. 

“So,” Mark stepped closer to graze a few tips of his fingers on Donghyuck’s side, holding the younger’s gaze as he continued, “as we have already established my inability to carry on breathing in the absence of your rapturous company, I thought I might inquire about your plans for tomorrow. Or do they make you slaves come in to count piles of Galleons on the weekends?"

Donghyuck laughed and shook his head no, so Mark went on, "They are having a festival in the park all day tomorrow. There's going to be an auction of rare wines, but its all Muggle currency. It would be nice to have someone around to help me keep track of the exchange rate, lest I bid away my entire estate."

"Seems like I'll be counting Galleons no matter what I do," Donghyuck teased, "The only leverage you have is the prospect of sunshine, eh?"

"Don't forget the pleasure of my company. I might even be persuaded to throw in lunch." Mark flashed him a wink.

"How could someone say no to that?" Donghyuck huffed out with a soft smile, and Mark desperately fought down the mutinous grin that threatened to take over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original 'Though she be but little, she is fierce.' and ' Well roared, Lion.' are two separate quotes from A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare, as is Donghyuck’s reference to being an ass.
> 
> Savinien is the first name of the man who was the basis for the play Cyrano de Bergerac, by Edmond Rostand. Christian de Neuvillette is the man who passes off Cyrano's wit and poeticism as his own to win the heart of the beautiful Roxanne.


	3. in his eyes

_If he wears another thing that shows his delicious collarbones, I swear I'll give ten thousand galleons to orphans,_ Mark thought as he leaned casually against the grey stone entryway of Donghyuck’s building, waiting for him to come down from his flat. They'd agreed to meet at ten-thirty on Saturday morning, and Mark had walked around Donghyuck’s block twice before buzzing the younger’s flat the moment his watch hit half-past the hour. Donghyuck had laughed at his promptness, the beautiful sound ringing out through the polished plate of the intercom as Donghyuck promised he’d be right down.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, schooling his features into a mask of aloof calmness and attempting to suppress the elation he was feeling at the prospect of spending an entire day in Donghyuck’s company. It wouldn't do to go about acting like a giddy schoolgirl on her first date to Hogsmeade. He frowned, as images of himself in a pleated skirt and knee socks, skipping down the street with a mortified Donghyuck, flashed through his mind. Disturbing, he thought with a shudder. Busy with repressing nauseating images of himself sporting wispy black pigtails, Mark didn't notice Donghyuck come down the stairs and slip through the outer doorway of his building.

"Hello, Mark Lee." Donghyuck greeted, and Mark’s eyes darted up to look at him.

_Lucky bloody orphan bastards,_ Mark closed his eyes with a chuckle, trying to reign in his lecherous stare, lest he scared Donghyuck off before he'd even spoken. The Gryffindor was dawned in another white cotton shirt with long sleeves that was way too big on him that it gave him adorable sweater paws, and again, he had the top three of his buttons undone. The shirt was tucked inside a pair of ripped black jeans. Overall, Donghyuck looked pretty. The thoughts of black pigtails and pleated skirts were quickly supplanted by images of himself taking Donghyuck in his arms and tracing a line of kisses from his shoulder to the slim curve of his neck. Mark felt his groin tighten slightly.

“Good morning,” Mark replied smoothly, straightening up and stepping closer to Donghyuck.

They regarded each other silently for a few moments before Donghyuck glanced down at the street and cleared his throat. "Would you mind terribly if we walked? The Albert Bridge isn't far, and it'd be a shame to waste such fine weather," he said with a hopeful little smile.

“Not at all.” Mark shook his head, leading the way down to the pavement. “I've always liked walking along the embankment."

Mark cast Donghyuck surreptitious glances as they walked quietly down the tree-lined street toward the Thames, admiring the richness of his curls, the smell of his skin, and noting the return of the peach-coloured gloss to his full bottom lip. He'd like nothing better at the moment than to suck every bit of that gloss off his pouty little mouth.

"No poetic greeting today?" Donghyuck broke the silence, looking over at him playfully. "I must say, I'm rather disappointed. I'd thought a man of your intellect and breeding would surely come up with something more titillating than 'I've always enjoyed walking down the embankment,” he lowered the pitch of his voice and raising his chin so he could stare down his nose at Mark snootily.

_Cute._

"I do apologize for the disappointment. I've had a rather busy morning so far, what with putting out a fire in an art museum, escorting a cartel of doddering old blue-hairs across busy intersections, volunteering at the library, rescuing a baby from dingoes and donating loads of Galleons to orphans. I've simply been a bit distracted."

"Hardly a viable excuse for such negligence. You'll just have to try harder next time or I may begin to doubt the extent of your literary prowess." Donghyuck chided.

"Indeed. Perhaps I should start immediately," Mark atoned, looking at him slyly, as they turned to walk along the embankment. “I do rather like that shirt of yours. Are you making a reference of some kind? Testing my skill at picking out allusions? Let's see…Woman in White?"

"Ah, but which one? There are so many to choose from," Donghyuck teased, playing along.

"Hmm… well, there's the one from the Wilkie Collins book," Mark offered, “and the Latin legend of the weeping woman."

"And Rebecca from that de Maurier novel,” Donghyuck chimed in.

"You could always opt for Bertha Mason."

"Poor woman. I never liked that name." Donghyuck huffed, wrinkling his nose. "As if being ugly and mental weren't enough, she had to have an unpleasant name as well."

"And here I thought you devoid of vanity. We could revert to the Rhys book and call you Antoinette instead." Mark replied, nudging the Prince lightly with his shoulder to make him smile.

Donghyuck laughed, looking at him thoughtfully. "So, let me get this straight. My options are… a madwoman, dead, dead, and a child killer? My, I must have been feeling terribly morbid when I got dressed this morning."

"Not necessarily," Mark mused, eyes fixated on the small dimple Donghyuck adorned on his cheek, "there is always the Good Witch from the Wizard of Oz."

"Glinda? Didn't she wear a giant pink creampuff of a dress?" Donghyuck asked, looking up at him.

“In the movie. Haven't you read the book? No? Really? Imagine that. What would the adoring Gryffindor masses say if they knew there was a Muggle book Mark Lee had read, but Lee Donghyuck had not?”

"I'm sure the Slytherin's would have a few choice words themselves, if they were privy to that bit of information," Donghyuck snorted.

"In the book," Mark said, brushing aside the younger’s previous comment, "Glinda wears a white dress. I think we're on to something, as you are also a magical being and, unless you lead a scandalous double life, a poster child for Goodness. The proverbial shoe seems to fit." Mark said smugly, emphasizing his point by reaching over and smoothing his hand along the small of Donghyuck’s back. He didn’t miss the light shudder and the flutter off Donghyuck’s eyes when he pressed his palm harder. That reaction poured more fire into the pit of sloshing gasoline inside his stomach.

_Fuck._

"Fine then,” Donghyuck flashed him a smile, rosy hues were high upon his cheek that made Mark wanted to lean closer and lick them. “I can deal with being Glinda. And whom does that make you? The scarecrow?"

Mark blinked, clearing the sinful fog that was clogging his sanity. It’s too early, damn it. “Surely not, as I, quite clearly, am in possession of a brain.”

“You are too scaly to be a Lion, which leaves…”

"The heartless woodsman?" Mark cut in.

"No," Donghyuck shook his head and looked at him solemnly. “The flying monkey.”

☷

“That one there,” Mark pointed at a small cup of colourful cut fruit. The leathery old man reached down to pluck it out of the display, exchanging it for the two Muggle notes Mark offered him. Crowds of people choked the variegated maze of vendor stands and tents, and Mark wove his way through them, hoping Donghyuck hadn't ventured far. 

He found Donghyuck exactly where he'd left him a few minutes earlier, fingering a wallet cut from an old, delicately embroidered Indian tapestry as Donghyuck negotiated the price with the trader. Gringott's must be over the moon to have him as one of their delegates, Mark mused as Donghyuck paid the glassy-eyed vendor less than half the original asking price.

The woman slipped the wallet into a plastic sack and handed it to Donghyuck, who had just spotted Mark and beamed. He bounced over to Mark, holding the sack open for him to see. “Isn't it lovely? I've wanted one for ages. And such a good price, too.”

“It’s quite fine. No one else will have anything like it," Mark answered thoughtfully, adding, "your negotiating skills are inspiring. That woman actually seemed pleased to accept less for it."

"Oh, that was nothing," Donghyuck laughed, "I once had to convince fifteen different elders in an East African village to grant Gringotts access to a single acre of land. It was a nightmare, took me three months to win them all over. Now, those women drove a hard bargain. Oh, what do you have there?" he asked, eyeing the cup of fruit Mark carried.

"Fresh guava. Ever tried it?"

Donghyuck shook his head, “I don't think so. Is it sweet?”

“Most of it is. Some are more bitter and they all range in acidity. The dark red pieces are called Strawberry guava, the green are Apple, and the rose-coloured ones are called Hong Kong Pink. Try one,” Mark offered, holding the cup out to Donghyuck.

"No, no. My hands are filthy from handling all those dusty old bags at that last vendor. I don't want to reach in there," Donghyuck said quickly, giving the strange fruit a sceptical glance.

"Surely you can come up with something more artful than that feeble attempt at dodgery," Mark smirked, reaching into the cup and plucking out a pink, fleshy cut of fruit. "Come now, you lot are supposed to be brave. Open up," he directed, holding the fruit a few inches from the younger's lips.

Donghyuck paused a moment, then parted his lips, blushing and looking away as Mark slipped it into his mouth. Mark relished the second sight of the rosy flush of Donghyuck's cheeks and took the opportunity to brush the pad of his thumb gingerly against the younger's bottom lip as he drew it away.

"Do you like it?" Mark asked softly, as Donghyuck sucked on the sweet fruit. 

Still unable to meet Mark's eyes, Donghyuck moved to keep walking along the line of vendors before answering. "Yes… I think I might like it very much."

They wandered for a while among the stalls and tents, stopping to examine various wares, watch the roving festival performers, and sample the variety of foods being offered. Eventually, Mark directed them to the line of large white tents set up for the wine auction. A number of wineries had set up booths in the first few tents, hoping to capitalize on the presence of the auction-goers by offering samples of their latest bottles. They drifted from booth to booth, allowing the various pourers to convince them to have a taste of their selection.

"I noticed there aren't any spittoons,” Donghyuck whispered betweens sips of a crisp French pinot gris. "Renjun would say that it was an underhanded ploy between the wineries and the consigners to get everyone soused and feeling divine, before sending them in to open up their purses."

"Hm, I think there may be darker forces at work than that,” Mark snickered softly and nodded to where a greying, older gentleman was flirting shamelessly with a young brunette, "See how it loosens up all the pretty beings who come to these things. Makes an easier go of it for all the rich, dirty, old men."

"Such debauchery," Donghyuck gasped dramatically. "To think you would risk compromising my virtue and pristine reputation just because you can't be bothered to keep track of an exchange rate."

"Yes, astonishing, isn't it? The levels I will sink to in the name of a good investment."

"Are you sure you don't mean Bacchus?" Donghyuck countered.

"So much cheek for such a small thing. Wherever do you store it all up?" Mark said, smirking. “Ah, I think we should go sign in. It seems they're starting." Mark peels Donghyuck’s fingers from the wineglass he was holding, setting it on the vendor's table, and placed his hand on the small of Donghyuck’s back, ushering him towards the registration table.

☷

"Oh, this is heavenly,” Donghyuck moaned, leaning back against an old tree and sipping his wine from a plastic cup. Mark felt warmth washed over his loins when he heard the sound, sprawled out on his side in the grass, admiring how the dappled late afternoon light undulated over Donghyuck. The remains of their lunch were spread out between them and he reached across them for the bottle of wine, which he'd charmed to look like water with a discreet flick of his wand.

"Admit it, all that debauchery rot you went on about was just a load of rubbish," he scolded lightly. “Hemingway was known to refer to wine as the most civilized thing in the world.“

"Read Hemingway, as well, eh? So tell me, however, did the great Mark Lee, supreme lord and guardian of all things grandiose and Pureblooded, come to discover Muggle literature? Certainly, you don't expect me to believe that you just woke up one day and thought, ‘I think perhaps I'll pop into a Muggle library today, see what those scummy, little blighters have lying around?’" Donghyuck said in a high pitched voice, an attempt at mimicking Mark. 

He didn’t even come close to the original.

Mark took a sip from his portion, looking ahead at the flutter of a particular white shirt, "The truth?"

"Well, yes. Unless, of course, it’s terribly dull, in which case you should come up with a fantastic tale of corruption and intrigue to impress me."

"Though it is rather boring, somehow I think you'll find the truth more interesting," Mark said thoughtfully, "because, in a round-about sort of way, it's your fault."

"Mine?" Donghyuck exclaimed with surprise, before flashing him a shrewd look. "Wait, what do you mean by bor–“

"Now, now, Lioness," he crooned, not wanting Donghyuck to lose his temper just yet. “Reign in that growl and I'll explain what I mean."

"Fine. Go on then,” Donghyuck crossed his arms across his chest and looked at Mark expectantly.

"The first time was that Christmas in the seventh year. You and the rest of those Order altruists were out doing Merlin-knows-what, leaving me to suffer all alone and holed up at Grimmauld Place, numb with boredom. So, out of sheer desperation, I went poking about the room you shared with the Snaggletooth and–”

“You went snooping in our bedroom? What a dirty, perver–“

“Oh, that's beside the point, and it was years ago. I said I was desperate. Can I continue?” Donghyuck snapped his mouth shut, gesturing with his small hand at Mark to continue.

"As I was saying, I went poking about your room and came across a book with the most intriguing title I'd ever seen. At first, I brushed it off and went to explore the rest of the house, but later, when I was lying on my bed in a boredom-induced stupor, the title came back to me and I couldn't get it out of my head. So I snuck back up to your room and read it cover to cover. It was a rather disconcerting experience. I had no idea Muggles could write like that."

Donghyuck watched him silently from his spot against the tree, and Mark rolled onto his stomach, fiddling with blades of grass as he continued.

"So, I searched through your books again and found another one by the same bloke. Now that one, that one was THE one. I was shaking by the time I finished it. I'd never read anything like that before. I mean, wizard books are just concerned with the practice and history of magic. Muggles... I suppose, without magic to focus on, what I mean is, Wizards turn to magic for comfort when the world overwhelms them. Muggles look inside themselves. It makes for very powerful literature. I’ve been devouring it ever since.”

Mark turned to look at Donghyuck, feeling vaguely envious of the tree as the younger looked dreamily up at its leaves.

"I've always thought the same thing,” Donghyuck then murmured after a few silent moments. “What was the name of the book? The one that caught your eye.”

"The Unbearable Lightness of Being."

Donghyuck brows knit together and he looked at Mark inquisitively, “And the other book? The one that got to you?”

“The Book of Laughter and Forgetting.”

"Yes, I remember them,” Donghyuck paused thoughtfully for a moment, then gave Mark a strange smile. “Well, I'm happy you liked them so much. Though you might have bothered putting them somewhere I could find them when you were through. I searched that house high and low looking for those two books. I never did find them."

"You wouldn't have found them. I kept them both. They're on a shelf at my flat."

"You stole my books?!” Donghyuck fixed him with an incredulous look.

“I rather prefer to think I liberated them from obscurity in your vast collection,” Mark sniffed, suddenly finding the rim of his cup very interesting.

“No. You stole them, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck taunted, rising up onto his knees and pointing an accusing finger at Mark’s face. “You pilfered my books like a common thief.”

"I did not!” Mark also raised to his knees, shooing away from the accusatory finger on his face. “You probably never even read them,” Mark said petulantly.

“You’re a thief.” Donghyuck finger poked the point of his nose.

“I’m not, stop saying that!”

“Mark Lee is a thief!” Donghyuck yelled, taking it as far as cupping his hands around his pouty mouth. 

His antics fell short. Donghyuck shrieked, then a stream of giggles burst out from him as Mark tackled his body to the ground, nimble fingers poking at his sides. “Get off, thief!”

“I won’t until you stop calling me a thief,” Mark pinned Donghyuck's hands above his head as Mark sat atop his thighs, nimble fingers poking at his sides.

“Never! You are a thief!” Donghyuck screamed in laughter as he struggled to suck some oxygen into his system. His shirt had ridden up from his bucking and twisting as if it was a matter of life and death to show a sliver of caramel skin 

It hypnotised Mark so much that it put him to stop the torture he bestowed upon the younger.

Donghyuck was _effing_ exquisite like this, his brown hair spread around him like a halo, face flushed, eyes glistening with a sheen of happy tears. And he had a dreamy smile on his mouth that Mark felt the urge to nibble on it.

A moment of silence washed over them until Donghyuck snorted and wiggled to break free against Mark hold. “You tickled me.”

“I did.”

“You stole my books and you tickled me!” Donghyuck huffed out, leaning heavily back against the tree after Mark had let him go and threw his hand dramatically across his brow, "To think the illustrious Mark Lee would stoop to such plebian acts of larceny, stealing from lowly Muggleborn boys. My world is crumbling. Damn you, Mark Lee, damn you."

"Oh, stuff it.” Mark snorted, unable to keep himself from laughing. “Fine, I stole them. I shall henceforth live in abject shame."

"Shame is not enough," Donghyuck retorted loftily. "You will be held accountable under the full force of the law. I shall be the prosecutor, as well as a magistrate."

“You can't do that. It's immoral.”

"I can. It's my right as the injured party. And guess what, by your own confession you've been found guilty. You are now subject to my wrath.

“Heavens, no." Mark drawled. “How ever will I make it through? And what of my sentencing, your honour?"

Donghyuck pursed his lips, looking back over at the festival grounds thoughtfully, then smiled wickedly at him. "See over there," he said, pointing to a number of colourful, flashing lights at the far end of the festival grounds. “They've set up a funfair. And you are going on one of the rides."

Mark gave him a look of horror, as Donghyuck grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the swirling lights in the distance.

☷

“That looks like an oversized pie pan. There is no way it can be safe,” Mark grumbled, warily watching the spinning contraption from where they stood at the front of a long line of Muggles.

“Nonsense. It's perfectly safe. All the mummies are letting their little children ride it.”

“Just because Mug– I mean, these people are literary masters, doesn't mean they have any competent sense of self-preservation. These are the same bloody people who think it is fun to strap little pieces of wood on their feet and slide down mountains.”

"As opposed to chasing a little golden marble with wings, whilst you are two hundred feet up in the air, with nothing between your ass and the ground but a thin piece of wood and some twigs?" Donghyuck whispered, eyes dancing as he watched the ride come to a stop and people filter out of the little door in its side.

A Muggle man in a vest signalled for them to move forward and Donghyuck once again grasped his arm and pulled him through the little door. Mark would be elated if it happened at any other occasion, Just not this one. He looked around sceptically as Donghyuck led him to one of the red panels that lined the walls of the machine, instructing him to lean back against it. Donghyuck took the panel next to him, and he watched in tense silence as the other Muggles filtered in and chose a panel for themselves.

"Just tell me what this bloody thing does! Does it toss us around? Make us see visions? What?" Mark’s voice breaking slightly with nerves while the cheeky Gryffindor just grinned at him and said nothing. Without warning, the man in the vest shut the little door and the machine gave a sudden lurch. Within seconds, Mark found himself pinned back against the panel. This was unnatural, he thought, feeling his stomach lurch and his heart beat against his ribcage violently. Suddenly, his feet no longer touched the floor, as the panel he rested against slid violently upwards. His face reddened, as he realized he may have actually yelped.

He heard Donghyuck giggling beside him and Mark turned his head to face him, flashing the younger his nastiest sneer, then a look of alarm when the panel slid abruptly down again, and Donghyuck only laughed harder.

"Oh, buck up, Mark Lee! You're acting like a first-year Hufflepuff. It's supposed to be fun. See, look what I can do!" Donghyuck spun himself about on the panel so that his feet were pointing upwards. Despite Mark’s discomfort, Donghyuck’s panel slid upwards so that his face was even with Mark’s and Donghyuck smiled prettily at him. Mark felt himself calming as he looked at Donghyuck’s upside-down smile, unable to stop himself from forcing his hand off the panel and reaching over to brush a stray curl out of Donghyuck’s eyes. The younger shivered when Mark traced his finger from the tender skin of his ear down along the line of his neck.

Donghyuck’s panel slid downwards again as the ride began to slow and he quickly manoeuvred himself upright. Neither of them spoke until the ride stopped and Mark weakly followed Donghyuck out of the little door, unsure if he felt dizzy from the force of the ride or the feel of Donghyuck’s skin. By silent agreement, they began making their way out of the park and towards the Albert Bridge.

“Mark?” Donghyuck called him suddenly as they neared the bridge. Mark realised the younger had never called him by his given name only, always Mark Lee this, Mark Lee that. Too formal. Mark decided he loved the sound of his name against Donghyuck’s tongue. “Was this a date?”

Mark blinked, pondering over his answer before he made up his mind. “I'd rather hoped it would be,” he proceeded calmly. “Do you not enjoy my company?”

“I– no, I do. Very much, actually. It’s just that since Felix... I haven’t really– I just don't know if I'm ready to do this sort of thing again,” Donghyuck mumbled.

Mark mulled over Donghyuck’s words as they crossed the bridge. Donghyuck was looking out at the water and didn't notice Mark halt his steps until Mark reached for his hand and spun him around, slipping his arm around Donghyuck’s waist and pulling the younger lightly against him. Donghyuck looked up at him, his pretty mouth opening in surprise and Mark let his eyes feast on the sight. 

“Can I,” Mark licked his lips, “can I please kiss you?” he moved his attention to Donghyuck’s wide yes, trying to show the beautiful boy in his arms how sincere he was through his gaze.

For what felt like a gazillion years, Donghyuck finally nodded and Mark gave in to temptation and gently pressed his lips to Donghyuck’s. After only a moment's pause, Donghyuck kissed him back and Mark’s pulse raced as his hands felt the pliant body of Donghyuck’s, his mind was lost in the softness of Donghyuck’s skin and mouth. Gathering all the self-control he possessed, Mark pressed a feather-light kiss against the you younger’s lips and pulled away, staring at Donghyuck intently.

“I'd like very much to try. We can take it as slow as you'd like,” Mark said simply.

Donghyuck shivered and nodded, clutching gently at Mark’s shirt and pulling his mouth down to his again. With ease, Mark parted Donghyuck’s lips and drove his tongue inside, gorging on the lingering taste of guava and wine, swallowing the breathy sighs Donghyuck pushed into his mouth. At last, Mark sink his teeth onto Donghyuck’s pouty bottom lip and nibbled at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woman in White is a mystery novel written by British author Wilkie Collins.
> 
> La Llorona is a Latin American legend of a woman who drowned her children in a river. Whether she wears white or black is dependent on which part of Latin America or the States is telling the story.
> 
> Rebecca is a novel by British author Daphne du Maurier. There is also a 1940 film version directed by Alfred Hitchcock. I know she wears a white dress in the film, I can't remember in the book. Chalk it up to poetic license- or, er, fanfic license? Yeah, that's it.
> 
> Bertha Mason is a character from British author Charlotte Bronte's novel Jane Eyre.
> 
> Antoinette Cosway is the main character in Wide Sargasso Sea, Dominican author Jean Rhys's reinterpretation of the life of Bertha Mason.
> 
> The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is a children's book written by American author L. Frank Baum. The 1939 movie version starring Judy Garland featured Glinda the Good Witch of the North wearing a very pouffy pink dress. In the book, Glinda, the Good Witch of the South wears a beautiful long white gown. Both book and movie feature the scarecrow, a non-scaly lion and flying monkeys.
> 
> Heathcliff Earnshaw is a character in British author Emily Bronte's novel Wuthering Heights. "The murdered do haunt their murderers" is spoken by Heathcliff about midway through the book, as he rants about wanting to damn Cathy's ghost to walk the Earth so that he doesn't have to live without her.
> 
> I read the Ernest Hemingway quote somewhere, but have no recollection as to where or in what context. Feel free to enlighten me.
> 
> The Unbearable Lightness of Being and The Book of Laughter and Forgetting are novels by Franco-Czech novelist Milan Kundera.


End file.
